


In the Clouds

by philsgiggles



Series: Fic Fests [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Dan Howell Is Not A Youtuber, M/M, Phil Lester Is Not A YouTuber, Roller Coasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 23:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsgiggles/pseuds/philsgiggles
Summary: Pj and Phil go on a roller coaster. Phil gets scared. Luckily, a helpful worker named Dan is there to save the day.





	In the Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, come check out my Tumblr @moonroomsnuggles! Enjoy, my sweets...

“Phil, we’re almost up!” Peej caws, bouncing on the balls of his feet at too fast of a speed for my frantic, blurry eyes. Up, down. Up, down.  
           “Ugh, don’t remind me!” I shut my eyes tight and try to think about something else. Anything else.  
           “Come on, it’ll be great!” He pokes my side as we step forward in line. We’re stuck behind a group of teenagers who’ve been chatting noisily about the ride for the past, what, ten minutes now? Definitely _not_ helping.  
           “Why did I ever let you rope me into this?” I mutter, barely loud enough to be heard over the roar. There is a stifling amount of people waiting for the ride, all shoved into the poorly-decorated warehouse, which of course _had_ to have the absolute feeblest air conditioning system in this hemisphere. I glance down to the bottom of the line. I quickly avert my eyes.  
            _So. High._  
          “Hey, we won the fastpasses, why not use them?” Pj shrugs, but the excited expression on his face never falters, “And besides, it’ll be fun!”  
           Before I can respond, the line moves again and I’m shoved forward by the horde pressing up against our backs. I stumble up and ahead, and almost hit the bored woman assigning the seats. She’s clad in an ill-fitting, far too tight uniform that makes my thighs hurt in sympathy. Her bright shirt is tucked in behind a clunky black belt and her thick hair is pulled back in a matter ponytail.  
           “How many?” She asks in an almost gratingly aloof voice. Her intense vocal burn makes me cringe.  
            _Guess I’d better add irritability to the list of side effects of going on a_ death trap!  
           “Two!” Pj says happily and grabs my arm to pull me forward, too forceful in his excitement.  
           “Row six,” She says before turning to the group behind us, “How many?”  
           Pj and I quickly head over the the row and wait by the metal bar separating us from the track. My stomach is roiling and my breath is coming quicker now.  
            _Oh God, oh God, oh God!_  
           “Phil! It’s gonna be okay, I promise!” Pj smiles at me and leans back on the metal divider on the edge of the platform. I lean my head back and aimlessly stare at the ceiling far above us from my standing position. I try to control my breathing. I let air in and out. In. Out. We wait for a moment, as even the air around us grows tense, as my heart stammers, as I watch dust specks fly around me, until a squadron of cars pulls into the loading area. The tracks audibly grind under the weight and my breath hitches.  
            _Thank God I peed before this._  
           The previous riders stumble out of their spots. All of their faces are bright red and their hair is windswept. I watch one person with long magenta hair fall onto their seat mate in their attempt to just stay upright. I gulp.  
           Suddenly, the silver divider swings forward with a mechanical _woosh_ and a little gust of wind brushed against my face. PJ skips forward.  
            _You’ve made it this far._  
           I step forward, too, and follow PJ down the little path and into my seat. There are just two seats per row, so I’m stuck on the outside edge closest to where the ride’s line congregates. I yank down the overhead bar, barely recognizing my actions, and look down at the seatbelt in confusion. I try yanking it up, out of its tiny slot at the bottom of my seat between my spread legs, but for some reason, it sticks. I pull harder, faster, and frantically try to strap myself in. But it doesn’t move. I pull.  
            _Nononononono––_  
           A brunet hurries up to me, eyes wide, “Hey, hey, calm down!” He holds his arms in front of him in a calming gesture, like he’s calming a spooked horse. Which, I suppose, isn’t that far off.  
           The boy is wearing the park’s uniform: a blue shirt with the logo of a little figure blowing wind taking up most of the real estate on the back, a pair of black pants that seem almost a size too small, and nondescript black shoes. He holds my eye with a wary look in wide eyes and approaches my seat slowly. He reaches into the collar of his polo and pulls out a little black cord from its hiding place in the crook of his neck. A worn silver key dangles from it.  
           He pulls it off and over his head before reaching between my legs. I stiffen even further, obviously, and I see a little dimple form in his cheek at the movement. I marvel at it. He clicks the key into the lock and immediately the belt relaxes in his hand. He pulls it up quickly and pushes it into position. I take a breath, incredibly relieved. I pull up on my restraints, testing their limits, and note happily that they moves only minimally. There’s no way I could fall out, not with my gangly limbs.  
            _Maybe not, but what if the ride breaks down or I get disconnected from the other seats, or I’m too tall and I’ll hit a bar or something? Or what if we stop suddenly and I’m thrown forward and I crash on the ground? Or what if we go so fast that we fly off the rails? It’s so high…_  
           I start to sweat and I catch my bottom lip in my teeth.  
           “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know. Though I should warn you that if you leave, _he_ ,” the worker gestures to Pj, “will have to sit with a stranger.” I see the brunet’s smiling face pop into my line of vision and he places a large hand on my left shoulder. My breath stutters, but I huff out an obliging laugh nonetheless. My right hand is suddenly very warm. I look to the side and meet Pj’s gaze through the plastic bars in our way as he nods reassuringly. I nod back and he releases my hand. I inhale slowly and lean my head back.  
           I flash as much of a smile as I can manage right now at the brunet, though it probably turns out to be a grimace, “Thanks. I think I can do it.”  
           “Alright,” he says, and with one last smile and look, continues down the line. Pj taps my hand furiously.  
           “Did you see that? He was totally checking you out!” He whispers to me. I turn my head as much as I can in the restraints to watch the brunet’s disappearing form. Thankfully, he’s pretty far out of earshot for that level of voice. I start to turn back in to my curly-haired companion, but stop at the last second. I turn my head again.  
           “Really?” Pj laughs at me. I just shrug, though it’s inhibited by the bars. I breathe. Let the air flow. In. Out. In. Out. I blink. My leg bounces. My pointer finger taps against my thigh. Then the ride moves. I jolt and grab the restraints, digging my short fingernails into the unforgiving material.  
           Pj yips in excitement and settles back in his seat. I gulp.

I push up on the restraints and collapse into myself.  
            _Holy shit._  
           We come to a stop and I use my arms to launch myself out of my seat. I topple forward and crash face first into the backs of the seats in the row ahead. Pj giggles giddily, but immediately falls backwards into his seat again.  
           My tongue pokes through my teeth as I laugh at him. My arms are still bracing myself against the seat. I’m not sure how much my legs will cooperate, but when Pj careens out of the row, my time resting has to end. I follow him and my knees buckle. I laugh loudly and push out and onto the metal platform on the other side of where we came in.  
           The brunet jogs up to us quickly, “Was it as bad as you expected?” He smiles and I shake my head quickly, smiling wide.  
           “Not even close!” I giggle and his smile grows. He sends me a look and turns away. This time, I take my time watching him, as Pj looks on with amusement. Eventually, he grabs my arm and starts walking. I stumble after him and we exit through a glass door. We hop down a flight of stairs encased in gray plaster. Pj rambles on about the ride, but I register only a few phrases.  
           “Though I was gonna… _incredibly high_... was screaming… wind was so intense… being in the back…” Pj continues on, oblivious, and we walk up the the long gray counter ahead of us. The screens above are slowly flashing through pictures from the ride, and we wait until we see ourselves. I’m scanning through the screen on the left when Pj suddenly says, “There!”  
           I turn my head and see us on the middle screen. I note Pj first. He’s thrown his hands up in the air and his chin is tilted up, mouth wide open in a scream. He looks the perfect picture of a happy rider on a rollercoaster. Even his bouncy curls are out of his face and flapping jauntily in the wind.  
         My eyes travel over to the little version of myself on the grainy screen. I’m exhilarated, eyes firmly shut but mouth wide open in a jubilant scream. My hands are clamped to the bars, and I’m clutching so tightly to them that, even with the poor resolution of the tiny screen, I can see my white knuckles. But then I see… my hair.  
           “No, no, Peej, look at my hair!” I groan and bury my face in my hands, swaying a bit on my feet. Just a few days ago, I finally made the switch from my old pseudo-emo fringe to a quiff, and I’m still a little skeptical. And this picture _really_ doesn’t help. I have never, not even when it was longer, seen my hair in such disarray. Half of it is flung in front of my face and the other half in the air, tangled wildly by the rushing wind.  
           I run a hand through my abused hair and pout a little.  
           “Oh, come on. It doesn’t look that bad!” Pj says. I peer at him, trying to gauge the amount of sarcasm in that statement.  
           “Your boyfriend’s right, you know.” I hear a voice from my right and spin to see the brunet from earlier coming down the stairs.  
           “Oh, I’m not his boyfriend!” Pj hurries to reassure him, “I’m his friend. I’m not gay. I mean, neither is he. But he’s bi. So I guess he’s closer? But, umm… I’m leaving. Bye.” Pj awkwardly meanders off towards the line in front of the photo counter. I can’t even imagine how murderous my face must look right now.  
           “Sorry,” the man says, “Your friend, then. He’s right.”  
           “About…?” I look at him questioningly.  
           “Your hair! It actually looks pretty good, especially considering just how high you were.” His eyes are focused at the stained floor below.  
           I smile, “Thanks. Hey, listen, do y—”  
           “Wait!” The brunet raises his left hand into a little upwards point as he rummages around in his back pocket for something, “You left something!”  
           “Huh?” I say. I pat myself down subconsciously. The only thing I brought with me was my fastpass, so I have no clue what he could be referring to.  
           He pulls out a little slip of crumpled paper from his back pocket. He looks at it and an enormous cheeky smile pops onto his face. He hands it over with a flourish. I look down.  
            **Dan Howell 404-555-5936**  
           I look up at him and grin widely, “Well, _Dan_ , you’re lucky I like you, because that was just about the cheesiest thing I’ve ever seen!”  
           Dan grins back, and I may have just come down from them, but I swear my head is floating up in the clouds still.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Phil wearing Dan's merch! (I can't wait for the gaming video!!)


End file.
